


at least i got you in my head

by softforsonny



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Sharing a Bed, lots of yearning, sleepover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:01:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22577584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softforsonny/pseuds/softforsonny
Summary: It's 2017 and Emily's crush grows out of control when she and Lindsey have an impromptu sleepover after a game.
Relationships: Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	at least i got you in my head

**Author's Note:**

> title, lyrics, and inspiration from "Sleepover" by Hayley Kiyoko cause I'm that bitch.

_ You wanna be friends forever? _

_ I can think of something better _

_ I'm just feeling low, feeling low _

The Thorns had just won a home game against The Dash when Lindsey invites herself over to my apartment for drinks and a movie to celebrate the win. I was flitting around, tidying up the best I can before Lindsey arrives. I’m still trying to get used to this new phenomenon of Lindsey seeking me out and despite my efforts to chill out about this new influx of attention, it still makes me nervous. 

Ever since the start of the 2017 season, something had changed in our friendship. Sure, we were friends the year before that, but it was casual. We would hang out in groups and chat at practice, occasionally text, but Lindsey never really went out of her way to hang out with me. I was usually initiating everything, sending her a meme I thought she’d like, congratulating her on a good session. She never really seemed to relax around me; it always felt like she was editing her words and carefully calculating every movement. 

When we both got back to Portland for the 2017 pre-season, something in Lindsey had completely flipped. Suddenly, Lindsey was coming  _ to me _ , instead of the other way around. It was like she had made it her personal mission to become my new best friend. We went to coffee shops, explored the food in Portland, and carpooled to the stadium, even though Lindsey was only a two minute walk away. We were really meshing. 

It was not helping my growing crush.

Two quick raps on the door pull me away from where I was obsessively straightening couch cushions and I open the door to see Lindsey holding up a bottle of cheap chilled wine with a grin. 

“I want to watch Charlie’s Angels.” 

I take the bottle from her and walk to the kitchen to grab cups, while Lindsey makes herself at home on the couch, pulling up the movie on my Netflix account. She’s only been to my place a handful of times, but she already knows her way around as if she’s been coming to visit for years. 

I don't have any wine glasses, but considering that it’s cheap wine, it probably doesn’t matter, so I grab two mugs, filling them about halfway and putting the wine in the fridge. 

Thirty minutes into the movie, we’re halfway through the bottle of wine and Lindsey is getting distracted. 

“Can I braid your hair? There’s a braid I’m trying to learn.” 

_ Always there to brush your hair _

_ Help you pick out what to wear _

_ I just feel alone, feel alone _

  
  


I’m seated on the floor, in between Lindsey’s legs as she sits on the couch. The buzz from the wine and the feeling of her fingers carding through my hair have my all my nerve endings humming. I can feel the heat of her legs permeating through my back as I lean, resting my weight into her. Every now and then, she gives my hair a gentle tug as she tightens the braid, each tug sending sparks across my scalp. 

Neither of us is paying attention to the movie anymore, but I’m grateful for the background noise for providing something to ground me, tying me to the real world rather than the fantasy in my head where Lindsey maybe isn’t as straight as she says she is. 

She finishes the braid, tying it at the end, and pulls me up on the couch, ushering me to face her. She uses a hand on my chin, tipping my head side to side to judge her work and I close my eyes, overwhelmed by the proximity of her face to mine. I don’t trust my alcohol-fueled brain to make smart decisions with her eyes fixed so intensely on me like that.

My eyes flutter open in surprise when I feel the blunt fingertips of her other hand brush back some stray hair, tucking it behind my ear. She’s looking right into my eyes, lips slightly parted with an unreadable expression on her face. I feel trapped under the building pressure, unable to break my eyes away from hers, scared that the tension will suddenly break, leaving me crashing down back to earth, but even more afraid that it’ll build impossibly higher into something else completely. 

She jerks her head in an almost imperceptible nod, releasing my chin.

“Good.”

I let out the breath I’ve been holding in, pulse racing as if I had just run a mile.

  
  


_ You will never understand _

_ Even when you hold my hand _

_ I just feel alone, feel alone _

  
  


After the third time topping up our mugs, Lindsey just brought the whole bottle over. We passed it back and forth, finishing the bit that was left as we continued ignoring the movie in favor of each other. Lindsey’s feet rest in my lap, my hands resting on her ankles as we argue over whether we actually met each other at a U-18 camp. 

“I was feeding you balls left and right! I was the ten to your nine.”

Lindsey takes a swig of the wine and shakes her head. “I would’ve remembered you.”

I don’t let myself read into what  _ that _ might mean and grab the bottle from Lindsey’s hands. “There is  _ literally _ photo evidence.”

“Nope.” Lindsey says, popping the “p”.

I roll my eyes at her stubbornness, passing the bottle back to her as she reaches out grabby hands. She takes a sip, downing the last bit from the bottle and looks at the empty bottle with a pout. 

  
  


_ I don't wanna talk about it _

_ I don't wanna think about it _

_ I'm just feeling low, feeling low _

  
  


The credits are rolling and Lindsey is half asleep, slumped on my shoulder. I tap her shoulder, rousing her and she sits up and blinks sleepily. Her hair is mussed and there’s a line on her cheek from where it was pressed against my sleeve and all I want to do is kiss her. 

“It’s getting late.”

Lindsey looks at the time and yawns. “I’ll just stay here, I don’t want to walk back.”

I start to offer to go find some blankets for the couch when Lindsey gets up and walks to my bedroom. I gulp as I realize that she intends to share the bed with me. It makes sense, I have a queen-sized bed and I’ve shared with teammates before, but this was  _ Lindsey _ . 

I take a deep breath and follow her down the hall.

We dressed for bed quickly, Lindsey stealing one of my shirts to sleep in and foregoing pants in favor of the black boyshorts she was wearing. While Lindsey’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth, I lay on my back with my eyes squeezed shut, trying to wipe the image dancing behind my eyes of Lindsey in nothing but boyshorts and  _ my _ t-shirt. It’s nothing I haven’t seen in locker rooms hundreds of times, but the effects of the warm glow of her bedside lamp put the fluorescents in the locker room to shame. If Lindsey looked good in the locker room, she looks ethereal here, painted by the soft yellow light in my bedroom. 

I pinch myself on the wrist, forcing a halt to that train of thought. Lindsey is my best friend. My  _ straight _ best friend. I repeat it to myself like a mantra until Lindsey finishes in the bathroom. 

_ Even when you're next to me _

_ It's not the way I'm picturing _

_ I'm just feeling low, feeling low _

Lindsey is on her side, facing me with a hand reaching out, playing with my hand. I make an effort to keep my eyes on the ceiling but quickly give up, lolling my head to the side to see Lindsey’s eyes following the path her fingers take down my forearm, towards the back of my hand. 

I can just barely see light reflecting off Lindsey’s eyes in the low light, barely a foot away from my own. I gaze at her, as the light filtering in from the street outside casts deep shadows across her face. I imagine reaching out a finger to chase the shadows across her forehead, down the slope of her nose, dipping into the cupids bow of her pink lips. I can almost feel the soft give of her skin. I desperately want to know what it would feel like to brush those loose strands of hair behind her ear, to maybe let my hand continue dropping until it rests on the back of Lindsey’s neck, running my fingers through the baby hairs that have fallen out of her bun. 

Still facing Lindsey, I close my eyes, focusing on the soft feeling of Lindsey’s fingers tracing my hand. I soak up the feeling of her finger pads tracing circles around my knuckles. I can feel slight calluses on Lindsey’s palm as the younger girl’s hand closes slightly around mine, encouraging me to turn my hand over with my palm facing up. Allowing my hand to be flipped by the gentle tugging, I let out a nearly silent sigh. 

Lindsey’s touch is both soothing and electrifying. The methodical strokes down my wrist, across the delicate skin covering my veins, and dipping in between the webbing of my fingers put me in a sort of trance and the buzzing that spreads across my skin reminds me of the fizziness of a soda recently opened. 

Lindsey’s fingers come to rest right where my forearm meets my wrist, as if she’s checking my pulse. I hope she’s not, because there’s no reasonable explanation for the way my heart is racing with nothing other than some soft touches and the feel of Lindsey’s body heat barely a foot away.

I open my eyes again to see Lindsey staring back, an unreadable expression on her face. I hold my breath, the air between us feeling fragile, ready to snap at any moment. Lindsey breaks into a small smile and I let out a shaky exhale. 

“Night, Em.” She says sleepily, before snuggling into the pillow and closing her eyes. 

“Night Linds” I respond quietly.

I roll over away from her and slowly drift asleep, crystal blue eyes and soft hands haunting my dreams. 

  
  


_ Sleeping here right next to me _

_ But will you ever mess with me? No _

  
  


_ Heat _ . That’s all I can process in the cloudiness of sleep. My body is filled with the heaviness that only comes with waking up in the middle of the night. As I wake and the cloudiness begins to clear, I realize why I feel so overheated. Sometime during the night, Lindsey had shifted to completely wrap around my back, one arm thrown over my waist, clutching my shirt against my abdomen. My shirt had ridden up just enough for the tips of her fingers to brush bare skin. At the realization of the position we are in, I tense up, mind racing a million miles a minute. 

Cautiously, I begin to slip under her arm, but her breath falters and I freeze. Her arm tightens, pulling me even closer into her and nuzzling her face into my shoulders. I wait until she stills again, and once again start wiggling, trying to create some space between us. This time, I barely make any progress before Lindsey grumbles and mutters “stop moving” into my shoulder blades. I barely stifle a shiver at the feeling of her lips moving against my back and the soft puffs of breath hitting my neck, but I’m stiff, struggling to resist the heat spreading through my body from the spot where her knuckles press into my stomach. 

The fist she has bunched in my shirt loosens and I sigh in relief until she releases my shirt in favor of slipping her hand just under the hem of my t-shirt, flexing her hand, until it lays across my abs. My breath hitches, her hand is huge as it rests just inches below my breasts. It feels not just intimate, but  _ possessive.  _ This thought sends a rush of heat straight to my gut and it feels like I’m burning alive from the inside out. 

I barely manage to get out a weak “Linds?” 

Lindsey just responds by lifting her head slightly and so, so softly running her lips down the line of my shoulder exposed by my shirt. This time, I’m unable to hold back the shiver that wracks my body when I can feel a hint of moisture between her lips, leaving a sensitive trail across my skin.

I say her name again, but instead of coming out as a question as intended, it comes out as a breathy sigh. Lindsey hums and presses impossibly closer, her nose tracing up my neck to the spot where it meets my jaw. The vibration of her hum travels down my neck, straight to my chest where my heart is beating so loudly, there’s no way she can’t hear it. 

_ Thumpthumpthumpthump _

“Do you want me to stop?” Lindsey rasps into my neck.

I hesitate only for a second and shake my head. “No.” I choke out.

She begins to place open mouthed kisses down my neck and slips her hand up so she’s touching the delicate underside of my breast. I gasp, arching back into her. Reaching an arm back, I clutch the back of her head, encouraging her ministrations on my neck. Moaning into the crook of my neck, Lindsey rocks her hips against my ass, while pulling me back into her with the hand on my ribs. 

I bring my arm back around to place my hand over hers, encouraging her to go where I need her most. We both groan when our joined hands slip under the waistband of my shorts. My hand goes back to her neck as she begins to roll her hips in earnest into mine. 

We get into an awkward rhythm as I grind into her, a string of muttered curses falling from my lips. I feel surrounded, her arm solidly wrapped around me, between my legs, her mouth sucking and biting everywhere she can reach, her hips rocking against my backside. 

I’m completely wrapped up in her both figuratively and literally. She’s letting out these breathy little sighs and moans, which doubles my efforts in rocking back into her, wanting to see how many of them I can drag out. 

We’re both still clothed which just heightens the intense heat and friction as skin drags across fabric, kindling a fire within my gut. 

She pushes a bare leg in between mine and the circles she’s making with nimble fingers grow shorter and faster. My hips stutter against hers. 

Gasping her name, I can feel it building. I’m getting closer and closer to an edge. I just know there’s no coming back after I fall over that edge but I find myself rushing towards it anyways, uncaring about the consequences, because this? This is worth it.

My eyes are squeezed shut, I’m overwhelmed by my senses. We’re both sweating but it just adds to the slippery feel of skin against skin where her hand is in the apex of my thighs. 

Hotter and hotter, higher and higher, everything is building. There’s a ringing growing in my ears as my body winds up more and more, the precipice nearing. As the ringing grows louder, Lindsey’s little moans get harder and harder to hear, until all I can hear is ringing. 

Suddenly all I can see is light behind my eyelids and everything is silent except for the ringing which seems louder than ever. 

I open my eyes, blurry from sleep to see Lindsey passed out next to me, bun half fallen out and arm tucked under her head as sunlight pours into the room. I look the other way, identifying the source of the ringing, my alarm going off. We’re supposed to be at recovery in an hour.

I reach over and turn the alarm off, rubbing my hands over my face. I’m sweating and overheated and there’s a throbbing ache in between my legs, leftover from the wildly vivid dream. 

I turn away from Lindsey. I can’t look at her. The guilt is too extreme. 

I crawl out of bed and walk down the hall to the kitchen. I start the coffee and gulp down two cups of water as I wait. By the time the coffee is done, I feel like I’m starting to shake off the effects of the dream. I go back to the bedroom, two coffees in hand to wake up Lindsey. 

Nudging her shoulder gently, I set her coffee down on the nightstand. Lindsey groans and I flashback to my dream. I turn away so she doesn’t notice the blush rushing up my face. 

I can hear Lindsey shuffling to sit up in the bed, reaching for the coffee. I can’t bring myself to leave the room, but I can’t bring myself to face her either, wracked with guilt. 

“Sonny, you okay?”

Clearly I wasn’t hiding it well enough, because she sounded concerned. I turn to face her, plastering a smile on my face. 

“I’m fine, just a little hungover.” 

Lindsey looks suspicious, squinting her eyes and searching my face, but I guess she decides to drop it, because she turns her attention back to her coffee. 

We fall into our usual banter and I find it easier to let go of the dream and re-bury my feelings down in the ground where they belong. 

This is good. Being friends is good. Losing Lindsey because of feelings is not good. 

_ And it breaks my heart, yeah it breaks my heart _

_ I do this every single time, every time... _

_ But at least I got you in my head, oh yeah _

_ At least I got you in my head, in my head _

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> so uh yeah that happened. i really have nothing to say for myself.
> 
> leave a comment! what ya thinking? how ya feeling? i love a good chat in the comments.
> 
> you can find me on twitter @soft4sonny or on tumblr @softforsonny if that's more your speed.


End file.
